


Snitch

by tepidblood



Category: Bleach
Genre: Abuse, But it's all there, Canon Compliant, Gaslighting, Lots and lots of abuse here, Mentions of Murder, Most of it emotional and verbal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-03
Updated: 2019-03-03
Packaged: 2019-11-08 10:38:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,514
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17979740
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tepidblood/pseuds/tepidblood
Summary: "I'll!" His whisper is suddenly a shout, breaking out of him in terror, but he doesn't quite feel the terror. It's just a poisonous kind of cold, but it's so familiar now he can barely place it. "I'll tell them.""I don' think y'eh will 'Zuzu~"





	Snitch

**Author's Note:**

> My friend linked me to some wonderful badship inspiration so I had to do this.  
> There's lots of implied and overt emotional abuse in this, so please be mindful.

Someone showing you their back isn't always a sign of trust. Sometimes it's just an accident or trying to move through a crowd; sometimes it's because someone was trying to protect you. The back in front of him wasn't there to protect him though. He stares at horizontal lines until they blur and become one. The diamond they were set in wanes, as if it was squinting back at him, and the kanji over the solid line turns blue-- Gin wasn't going to protect him.

"'Zuzu~" He's jolting, chin jerking up so hard it makes his teeth click, and he finally looks up. He looks away from the spot between slim shoulders and at the face peaking back at him. Gin has to tuck his chin down to look back like that, like his neck was stiff or sore. "Don' lag; yeah? Gotta go get'cha patched up." No; he was doing it just to be cute and that made it worse. That made it so, so much more worse.

"I'm sorry Captain." The apology is automatic and practiced, like a prayer should be, but isn't. He doesn't want to be patched up. He wants to pick at sores on his arms and neck again, but he doesn't have fingernails to do it anymore. He wants to dig his teeth into his nail beds and rip the last of his nails out or yank at his cuticles. He pulls at the binder on his arms, anxious fingers twisting inside the canvas, and he wants out of the binder too. Not just to hurt himself though. He wants out before Gin remembers he left him in it.

"Hmm…" Gin's reply could have just been him humming to himself, but he doubts it. There's nothing ever accidental about the way he conducts himself. Every step he takes, every word he says, even the way he holds himself-- There's the sharp noise of a Zanpukuto being pressed forward out of its sheath and he tenses. He's glancing around, panicky, but there's nothing. The night is too quiet, too eerie, and the noise repeats itself. 

He catches the glint of Wabisuke in the dim light as Gin presses it forward with his thumb. Long fingers curl around Wabisuke's sheath and spin it slowly, even as he presses the Zanpakuto forward and back. He doesn't like it. "'Zuzu, did y'a sharpen Wabisuke earlier this week?"  Of course he did. He always sharpens Wabisuke the same time Gin polishes Shinso. He's pausing, faltering mid-stride as he tries to figure out what  _ this _ question might mean, but he doesn't really get to figure it out. The sharp noise repeats itself one more time, dim light flashing almost bright as Wabisuke is brought forward, and he forgets how to breathe as he feels the heaviness of the blade curl in the air.

There's a rush of air on his face, but he doesn't flinch. He lets his lungs clench and burn as he watches Gin's haori flutter and settle. The armbinder eases from around him when he breathes, the straps across his chest evenly slashed, and the point of Wabisuke barely pressed to the top of his canvas wrapped hands. The easy smile on Gin's face doesn't match the precision he wields a sword, but that's nothing new. His zanpakuto is drawn back, sliding across the back of Gin's hand as he moves to resheathe it, and that's new. "Guess y'eh did." The click of Wabisuke settling back in its home barely registers before Gin was tossing it up into the air. "Now catch."

The damaged armbinder falls to his hips and then to the ground as he lunges for his sword and he forgets it in favor of not failing such a simple command.

"Y'know." He's at Gin's right now, two steps behind, like he's supposed to be. Wabisuke is back at his hip, ever heavy, but familiar. The lingering poisonous cold from Gin's energy radiates from the blade, but that's familiar too. "Almost no one gets t'a see the inside of this place~" Arms are suddenly thrusting out, opening up in a grand gesture to the plain walls and non-descript ponds that surrounded them. The compound was sterile, for lack of a better word. There was nothing of note, which couldn't be right. There should at least be guards for the Central 46, shouldn't there?

"I think that's a real shame. Don't'cha?" He's nodding, but Gin isn't looking. He's humming instead, his grand gesture drooping as he forges on through the compound, passing nondescript buildings left and right. "But at least we're gettin' t' see it." He's taking a sudden turn, which he struggles to keep up with and not bump into his Captain's shoulder. He doesn't quite succeed, but he's not met with a bony shoulder. He's met with fingers curling under his chin, guiding his head to turn slightly, and look ahead. "I don' like that they feel so mighty that they get'a hide like ant queens." He's looking at a larger building now, slightly elevated above the others, and pristine stairs stretch between it and the ground. "It's mighty vexin'; yeah?" He nods into the fingers on his chin and Gin laughs.

The building is as sterile as the rest of the compound, but darker. No lanterns burn within the walls, leaving only dim light to cut through the gloom from one, solitary window. He squints as Gin leads him into the dark, waiting for his eyes to adjust, but they won't. Darkness you can acclimate to, but this… this wasn't just darkness. "You kept me waiting." He's stopping, regardless of the fact that Gin's still moving, or the fact that he's laughing. The voice slips around them, like ripples in a pond, and there's the briefest, terrifying moment where he thinks he's going mad.

"Sorry; sorry~ 'Zuzu was in worse shape than I thought." The darkness is rippling, bowing out as it reveals how forced it was, and lantern light finally emerges around him. The illusion disperses gently, but it does not reach him gently. There's a warm smile and unsmiling brown eyes staring back at him as the last remnants of darkness drop away. "Won't'cha be nice t' me and heal my boy?" He can see Gin in his peripheral, moving to stand to the right of the empty smile, and the dread he had felt in his prison cell was back.

"Of course I can." The words seem so kind, spoken without an effort to be exasperated, or otherwise put upon. A hand is reaching out to him and beckoning and he-- he goes to it. His feet move him forward without him thinking about it, leading him right to the Captain's outstretched palm. He feels that palm press against the top of his head and his knees are buckling. He's falling to his knees as spiritual energy crashes down on him. It hits him like a waterfall, too warm to be natural, but too fierce to be faked. He chokes on it, tears springing to his eyes as the warmth fills him down to the very tips of his toes, and he hates it. He hates it, he hates it, he hates it-- "Now what do you say Lieutenant Kira?"

"Thank you Captain Sousuke." 

He stays on the floor, hands gripping at his knees too hard for comfort, but he can't let go. He can't look away from freshly regrown nails or the lack of scratches and cuts on his arms. He can't look up as Gin and Aizen talk over him, Aizen's hand still on the top of his head, and his fingers idling curling into his hair. He wants to be sick; he wants to cry. The tears in his eyes drain away, running down into his nose, and he sniffs. The conversation above him pauses and Aizen's hand finally pulls away. It's replaced with something worse.

Cold fingers brush up under his chin, coaxing him to look up. He's always looking up at Gin, up into an empty smile, and squinting eyes. He looks though, because that's what he wants. "Somethin' the matt'a 'Zuru~?"  _ No _ he wants to say, because that's what Gin wants to hear. He's supposed to say what Gin wants to hear. He's supposed to do what Gin wants him to do. He's supposed to  _ be _ what Gin wants him to be. He sniffs again and… leans back. He leans away from cold fingers and presses himself up and off the floor.

"You killed the Central 46." The accusation should seem stronger, he thinks, but he can't muster it. He can't get his voice to be louder than a whisper as he's moving back, away from Gin; away from Aizen. It's about four meters to the door from where he was standing; he might be able to use Shunpo and get away. He might be able to get past the rippling darkness that looms high up in the room, waiting to descend once more at Aizen's command. He just might-- "You're the one giving the orders on the execution." He might just lose it.

"You-- you've orchestrated all of this." He can't seem to catch his breath. Gin hasn't moved and his smile hasn't changed and that doesn't help. "You set Momo up--" Graceful fingers finally finish their curl up into Gin's palm as he tilts his head. The movement is slow, but he knows better. He's turning on his toe and gathering his energy, but it's too late. Gin's already in front of him, his shunpo barely disturbing the air and energy around them, like a snake slithering through the grass. Graceful fingers frame his face now, pale palms descending upon his cheeks, and he wants to back away. He's shaking, which he can only tell by the way Gin's grip stills him some. Those cold fingers are brushing down his jaw and curling around his neck. It's too gentle.

"Yare, yare…" Gin's tilting his head with his grasp, making it roll from side to side, ever so slightly. He takes a step back, but Gin follows him. There's no extra pressure, no instant rebuttal, but only the dreaded promise of  _ something _ . The darkness is everywhere again, leaving only them illuminated, but he's not sure by what. Gin keeps tilting his head, manipulating him like a corpse, or a doll, and he can't bring himself to try to pull away again. "Y'er so jumpy 'Zuzu." Gin leans forward, his breath washing over his face, and he can't help but jerk.

"I'll!" His whisper is suddenly a shout, breaking out of him in terror, but he doesn't quite feel the terror. It's just a poisonous kind of cold, but it's so familiar now he can barely place it. The warmth from before is gone now, replaced with that icy sensation, and he knows this is worse; even through the familiarity. "I'll tell them." He's shivering from the cold, from the emotion coiling up in his gut, even as he stumbles in the coils of the man in front of him.

"Tell who 'Zuru?" Gin's voice is soft and sweet and he wants to lean into it. He wants to go back to when he trusted that tone. He wants to go back to two minutes ago and stay on the floor and not look up. The fingers tilting his head suddenly tighten, not to the point of choking, but to the point of forcing his chin up. He's looking up at Gin again and he hates it. "Who are y'eh gonna tell Izuru?"

"Captain Yamamoto." The reply is ridiculous, he knows. He'd be cut down before he could even get to Yamamoto. Captain Hitsugaya would cut him down as well. His options were slim and he knows it. He's going through the list of who  _ might _ have the power to do something, but it's small. It's as small as he feels right now as Gin's smile widens and teeth finally peek out from behind thin lips.

"Yeah?" Gin's leaning closer again, leaning down, and he can't jerk away this time. He's trapped in the vice of fingers that tighten down as he tries to pull away again. Gin's nose brushes against his, his breath smelling faintly of mint and sugar, and it makes his stomach roll. He sniffs as more tears drain out of his eyes unwillingly as he looks straight into the opening slits of Gin's eyes. The icy blue drowns out everything else; it drowns out the darkness and the terror and even his thoughts. It's just him and the blue. "I don' think y'eh will 'Zuzu~" It's just him and the smiling snake in front of him.

"I will." He can barely talk as he looks into blue eyes; Gin's spiritual energy coiling tight around him and compressing down upon him. Hands itch forward for a moment, as if to reach out and pry at Gin's wrists, but they don't make it far. He's locking up, his body freezing in fear, but his mind keeps running. "I'll tell them, I swear. I'll die trying to expose you." the blue gaze wavers for a moment, flicking off to the side, before it slips away. Gin's leaning back, eyes closing again, and his grip loosens.

"N'aw, 'Zuzu, that won't work." Thumbs are reaching out again, stroking along his jaw, and he tries to pull his chin away. He's allowed to tilt his head some, but not much. He realizes a bit too late that he shouldn't have tried to look away. Gin's lips are suddenly on his jaw, pressing tiny kisses against his skin, and he  _ finally _ is wrapping his hands around Gin's wrists. "'Cause, y'eh see…" He's pulling against Gin, trying to pry him away, but it wasn't working. His mind was going too fast; too fast for his body to keep up. "...I'm the one in control, an' you ain't." There's more kisses, edging close and closer to his lips, and Gin is finally grabbing him tighter. He's starting to choke, his mouth gaping instinctively, and he feels Gin press the tiniest kiss against his bottom lip. "Do I gotta remind y'eh 'Zuzu?"

There's hands on his shoulders now, but they're warm. There's suddenly more to the darkness again, but he can't fathom it. He can't wrap his racing mind around it all as his vision dances and warm lips press against the side of his head. "Relax Izuru." Gin's licking along his bottom lip and across his cheek, like he was taking a taste of him. Aizen's fingers knead against his shoulders and press down on them, forcing them to relax. He's caught. "We haven't killed the Central 46." Gin's fingers are releasing, gently, and air brings spots to his vision. He looks, without seeing, as his brain finally slows down enough to settle back into his skull. Gin was smiling at him, the sort of smile one sees right before they die, and he can feel Aizen's smile pressed against the side of his head.

"You are going to kill them for us."


End file.
